


does the metal in your mouth taste as good as it looks?

by ghostpot



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: M/M, Minor Akaashi Keiji/Bokuto Koutarou, Piercings, Sexual Tension, kuroken have a 'some'-relationship for most of the fic, meaning theyre in love but do nothing about it for a long time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-20
Updated: 2020-09-20
Packaged: 2021-03-07 20:08:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26553349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ghostpot/pseuds/ghostpot
Summary: Kenma collects quite a few piercings over the years. Kuroo is the one who suffers the consequences, though he thinks it's worth it in the end.
Relationships: Kozume Kenma/Kuroo Tetsurou
Comments: 37
Kudos: 823
Collections: Recommended KuroKen Fics, stories that touched me





	does the metal in your mouth taste as good as it looks?

**Author's Note:**

> this entire thing is self-indulgent. not a single critical thought went into this. good luck.
> 
> update: now with some [INCREDIBLE ART](https://twitter.com/got2ghost/status/1323394193528659969?s=20) from chi!

Kuroo only knows that his best friend is in his home because he hears his grandmother trill “Kenma-kun!” from the living room. Face twisting in confusion, Kuroo picks up his phone to see if he’s missed any texts while studying. There are no unread messages in his inbox, so Kenma is just _here_ , he supposes. It isn’t necessarily uncalled for to Kenma show up out of the blue but today is a strange day for it to happen. Still, Kuroo can hear Kenma attempt to navigate his way through small talk, so he can’t imagine anything has gone too awry. 

When Kenma finally lets himself into Kuroo’s room, Kuroo immediately notices that something is different. The air around him seems lifted and his back isn’t hunched, but for all that Kuroo could chalk that up to the way Kenma gets after spending his day with Hinata, there’s something else. Squinting, Kuroo raises his finger in the air and spins it in a circle. Kenma heaves a quiet sigh but does a full 360 in place anyway.

“Oh,” Kuroo snaps his fingers, “Did your butt get bigger? It’s cute.”

Kenma levels him a withering glare. He does not break his gaze even as he swipes half of Kuroo’s homework off of his desk. Kuroo’s expression melts from smug to passively agitated. The smile doesn’t leave his face, but his eye twitches. Kenma looks away first to crawl on top of the desk and sit cross-legged in the space he’s just created. Somehow, as Kuroo leans down to shuffle together the discarded materials together into a neat pile, he gets the distinct feeling that Kenma won this staring contest anyway.

Homework safely stored in a drawer away from vengeful hands, Kuroo looks back up at Kenma, who looks much like the cat that got the cream. This proximity only works to cement the theory that something is different about him. 

“What happened to Shrimpy?” Kuroo asks. “Weren’t you supposed to spend the weekend with him?”

Kenma shrugs, “We bumped into Bokuto and Akaashi outside Shibuya. They were on their way to an extra practice session and Shouyou wanted to join them. Bokuto really, really wanted Shouyou to join them. I wanted a break from Shibuya.”

As Kenma speaks, Kuroo examines his best friend carefully in an attempt to zero out what’s nagging at him. Delicate fingers fidgeting with the hems of his sleeves? Check. Knobby knees peaking through his ripped jeans? Check. The bucket hat is new, presumably bought today with a cute little apple stitched at the front of it, but it seems too obvious to have Kuroo this perplexed.

“What were you doing in Shibuya, anyway? I thought you took him there last month.” Kuroo reaches up to pinch a section of Kenma’s hair between his middle and index fingers. 

Is it getting longer? Perhaps he needs a trim. When he drops the hair, it falls back to just above Kenma’s chin, so that can’t be it either. Kenma tucks the strand behind his ear. Kuroo takes the opportunity to stare at his face.

Soft jaw? Check. Thin pink lips? Check. Sharp golden eyes? Check. Ruby studs in his ears? Check. 

Wait.

_Ruby studs?_

“Shouyou wanted to get his ears pierced. He was too scared to get them on his own, and we saw a place that did a two-for-one deal last time.”

Hm. Okay. Now that Kuroo’s solved the mystery, he can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the new earrings in Kenma’s earlobes. Thoughtlessly, he reaches up again to touch them. Kenma swats his hand away.

“They’re fresh. I don’t want your dirty hands near them. Who knows where they’ve been?”

“I’ve just been doing homework all day! Why do you think so little of me?” He shoves two of his fingers through the rips in Kenma’s jeans instead, prodding at the soft skin there. 

“The first thing you said to me today was that you thought my butt was cute,” Kenma says. He’s smiling, small but teasing, so he can’t be too upset over it.

“Your butt _is_ cute,” Kuroo says. Briefly, he wonders when he and Kenma fell into _this_ , this proximity and these comments that could be perceived as too intimate for mere friends. Then he thinks about two weeks ago when he’d shoved his hand in Bokuto’s back pocket and called his ass fat, so he waves the thought off completely. “The piercings are nice too. I think they suit you. Are you going to have to take them out at school?”

If Kuroo weren’t so focused on Kenma’s ears, he would have missed the soft pink that tinges the tips of them. “I don’t think so. Miyahara doesn’t have to take his out, and my hair mostly covers them anyway.” To prove his point, Kenma runs his hand through his hair so that it falls back in front of his face. 

They are only noticeable through the blond curtain if you’re looking for them specifically, or, Kuroo thinks, if you’re his best friend and have all the shapes of Kenma’s body ingrained in your mind. He retracts his hand from Kenma’s pantleg. 

“So, red, huh?” Kuroo smirks, leaning forward to rest his chin on his hand. 

Kenma flushes darker now, the way he always does when someone implies that he may have soft, squishy feelings. “It’s not a big deal. Shouyou’s are orange.”

“Half of Shrimpy’s brainpower is dedicated to Karasuno’s volleyball team.”

“You underestimate him. It’s more like three fourths.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo chirps, extending the last syllable of his name a few seconds too long. “Just admit you love Nekoma.”

“Shouhei is pretty okay.” 

“If Fukunaga and I were both drowning and you could only save one of us, who would you save?”

“That’s not even a competition,” Kenma says. His face is neutral but Kuroo can make out the wicked glint in his eye. “Shouhei makes really good arroz con pollo. What can you do?”

Kuroo claps a hand over his chest and falls against the back of his chair like he’s been shot. “I would choose Yaku over you, too.”

“No, you wouldn’t,” Kenma scoffs.

“Yes, I would.”

“No, you wouldn’t.”

Kuroo sighs, picking his head back up. “No, I wouldn’t.”

“You really like them?” Kenma asks quietly. He peers timidly at Kuroo from beneath the brim of his hat, vulnerable in a way he doesn’t usually like to present himself. He’s quick to look away when Kuroo catches his stare. 

Kuroo preens under the implication that his opinion means that much to Kenma. “I do. I think they look really good,” he says with as much genuineness as he can muster in his voice. 

Kenma pushes himself off Kuroo’s desk then, making his way to Kuroo’s bed with his shoulders drawn up to his ears. Kuroo sees the light blush dusting his cheeks anyway. He discards his bucket hat on Kuroo’s nightstand and shimmies out of his skinny jeans before crawling beneath Kuroo’s sheets. 

He really does have a cute butt. 

“I’m supposed to pick up Shouyou around five. Wake me up if I’m still asleep at four. He’s too important to lose.” He punches the pillows a few times before settling on his back. Kuroo knows he typically favours sleeping on his right side, so he assumes Kenma’s trying to not irritate his new earrings. 

“Just for that, I’m going to let you sleep until six.”

“No, you won’t,” Kenma says. His voice is muffled by the duvet pulled up to his nose.

“No, I won’t,” Kuroo responds, unable to keep the smile out of his voice.

And he doesn’t. Once 4PM rolls around, Kuroo gently shakes him awake and revels in the brief glimpse of post-nap Kenma he gets to see before Kenma pushes himself out of bed and back into his jeans. He abandons his hat on Kuroo’s nightstand in favour of grabbing one of Kuroo’s sweatshirts to wear out into the quickly cooling night. He leaves to pick up Shouyou, Kuroo finishes the rest of his homework, and he stays up an extra hour that night thinking about the way that the jewellery glittered in the light when his hair was tucked behind his ear.

A few months later, Kenma exchanges the red earrings for chunky looking black studs. It doesn’t take Kuroo very long to notice, a little less than half a day, as he’s gotten so used to the way the gems shifted colours in different kinds of lighting, the way they dulled behind the cover of Kenma’s hair. 

They’re sitting underneath a staircase in one of the more unused stairwells of Nekoma High, the early December temperature far too cold to warrant finding space outside to eat lunch. They had tried eating in one another’s classrooms for a while, but the girls in Kenma’s class giggled and tittered over the volleyball captain and the boys in Kuroo’s class mocked and sneered at the quiet blond suddenly taking up space in their classroom. Neither found these situations particularly favourable, so early into Kenma’s first year they’d taken to scouting the most isolated places around the school to spend their shared breaks. 

It is admittedly a little drafty in their secluded corner, but it’s nothing bone broth and close vicinage can’t fix. 

With an arm slung across Kenma’s shoulders and Kenma comfortably tucked against his side, Kuroo remarks, “Simple.”

He’s not surprised Kenma has gone and switched out his first set of earrings for something more lowkey. If anything, it’s a little strange that he waited as long as he did after his piercings were deemed properly healed. 

Kenma does not need any more clues than that to key into what Kuroo is talking about, what he’s thinking about. “They’re gauges.”

Kuroo is smart, but he does need a little more than that to follow the train of thought. “Gauges?”

“They stretch your earlobes wider than regular earrings. I knew I wanted them pretty early on, so I never bothered buying any regular-sized earrings.”

Kuroo hums. The general concept of stretched earlobes is one he _is_ familiar with, even if the terminology eludes him. Yamamoto is into more punk-rock looking girls and one of Bokuto’s older brothers has ‘gauges’ wider than Kuroo’s thumb. 

“How wide do you plan to go?” 

“Not very.” Kenma pulls away from Kuroo to grab his phone, then quickly situates himself against the taller boy’s side again. He swipes his thumb across the screen several times to open a photo, “Like this.”

The picture is of a man with a simple stainless steel gauge in his ear, completely hollow in the middle. In bold font at the bottom is the text _10mm_. The longer he stares at the picture, the more vividly he can picture it being Kenma. His cheeks warm slightly. 

To distract himself from the mental image, he leans over and nips the tip of Kenma’s ear with his teeth. Kenma doesn’t react beyond raising a brow at him. 

“Are you planning on getting any more?” Kuroo asks because surely thinking about Kenma with _more_ piercings will negate the uncomfortable heat he feels in his core just imagining his best friend with gauges. 

Kenma lets the question linger in a way that can’t be anything other than him already having an answer and deciding how to bestow it upon Kuroo. In the end, he settles for a quick nod and the confirmation of, “Lots, probably.” 

So that’s.

Kuroo grasps at the thermos of bone broth to hydrate his sudden cottonmouth. Kenma takes it from him right after and takes a much smaller sip. Kuroo wonders if Kenma would notice if the next time he drank from it, he placed his lips right where Kenma’s were.

Shocked at the thought, Kuroo pauses to evaluate where that could have possibly come from. Kenma is attached to his entire left side, one of his ankles even hooking over Kuroo’s, as Kuroo’s arm is wrapped protectively around him like it’s enough to shield him from the slight chill of the stairwell. It isn’t an unusual amount of physicality. It’s probably just oxytocin then, making him loopy on thoughts of what it might taste like to kiss his best friend. Just brain chemicals, doing what they do, nothing to worry about.

“Cool,” Kuroo says. Kenma then tucks his head under Kuroo’s chin, and at this angle, Kuroo doesn’t have to think about the gauges in his ears at all.

Near the end of March, Kuroo finds himself in the upstairs bathroom of the Kozume residence. Kenma is sat on a stool in front of him with a ratty towel around his shoulders. His hair is clipped up in strange places as Kuroo makes his way around Kenma’s head, brushing bleach into his roots.

He’s gotten pretty good at it, with years of helping maintain Bokuto’s and then Kenma’s hair under his belt. He’s still sure to be a little more careful with Kenma. His scalp is sensitive, but mostly Kuroo enjoys this time they spend together once every so often. It feels intimate, somehow, talking quietly as Kuroo runs his hands through Kenma’s hair, the only one to ever see him like this. 

He likes the privileges he gets from being Kenma’s best friend even if he won’t admit them out loud.

“This stuff always smells,” he whines. “At least when I help Bo I get to use the cool toner that smells like grapes after.”

“I’d look terrible with white hair,” Kenma replies after a moment. His eyes are focused on the game of Scribblenauts he’s playing on his old DS, the console he’s least attached to. 

“You would not.”

“It’d be even more work to upkeep.”

“I do it all for you anyway.”

“I don’t want Bokuto to think I’m copying him.”

Kuroo laughs, “I’ll give you that one. Hinata’s already given him a big head, we can’t have you going around inflating him even more.”

“Wording, Kuro, I’m begging you,” Kenma says desperately. 

“Pervert,” Kuroo chides, flicking him on the shoulder. He wraps a section of saturated hair in foil before moving around to the back of Kenma’s head. “Why am I doing this now, anyway?”

“Your graduation is coming up.” 

It’s a big event. Kuroo will be leaving Nekoma behind and moving onto bigger, though not necessarily better things. It will be symbolic of shedding his formative teenage years and starting a new life as an emerging adult. For all his fond memories of volleyball, high school pranks, and bothering Yaku, he can’t say that he’s not looking forward to seeing what university has to offer. So it _is_ a big event, but a big event for _Kuroo_. 

“So?”

“I’ll probably have to be in a lot of pictures.” 

It’s a fair assumption. Kenma’s been to so many of Kuroo’s family gatherings over the years that he makes more than a couple appearances in the family photos that hang on the walls of his home. He has an inkling of why that might be grounds to redo his roots, but Kuroo wants to hear him say it out loud anyway.

“That’s not much of an explanation,” Kuroo says, beginning to section off more hair to bleach. His eyes flit to the mirror to gauge Kenma’s reaction. Predictably, he frowns. Kuroo tries to keep his face neutral in case Kenma has the same idea.

“I want you to be able to treasure your memories of Nekoma,” Kenma says. 

It is far more honest a statement than what Kuroo was expecting. It doesn’t answer the question, technically, but Kuroo knows exactly what he’s trying to say. _I want you to look at those photos and smile. I want you to look at them with only good thoughts._ Kenma wants the photos to be pristine, him included. 

Kuroo freezes in his movements, applicator brush stopping in its tracks down Kenma’s hair. Staring down at the back of Kenma’s head, at the nape of his neck, Kuroo realizes 3 things.

1\. His heart is beating rapidly in his chest, unquestionably sent into overdrive by Kenma’s loaded confession. This has been happening more and more these past few months, and it gets harder to ignore each time.

2\. Kenma is also a little embarrassed by what he’s said. The tips of his ears blush an angry red and the back of his neck is a much lighter pink, still noticeably darker than his regular skin tone.

3\. At the base of Kenma’s neck, in the center of the flush, is a new piercing. It appears to be a barbell sitting horizontally in his skin. Steel in a bed of roses. 

A beat passes. Two beats. Kuroo swallows hard at the sight before him. He crushes every thought he has of leaning down to kiss the back of his best friend's neck in his throat, traps every curiosity of how warm the skin would be deep in his stomach. It flips and flutters with wants and fantasies but it’s all internal, at least. He forces his hands to move again.

They aren’t as steady and deliberate as they were before, but Kenma does not say anything about the pause nor the hesitation of his touch. Kuroo’s not stupid enough to think that Kenma hasn’t noticed, Kenma notices _everything_ , but he’s relieved to find that Kenma is letting his behaviour off the hook.

“That’s new,” Kuroo says before this new silence suffocates him. 

Kenma hums, “I got it about a month ago. It’s hidden enough that it’s not a big deal.”

That’s likely why Kuroo hasn’t noticed it until now. Between the length of his hair and the collar of his school uniform or the hoods of those sweaters he always wears, it would be unnoticeable. The only time it would be on display is during practice, when Kuroo is too focused on volleyball to stare at Kenma’s neck, or when Kenma is changing, which Kuroo has recently started to pointedly look away from. 

“It’s unique.”

Kenma exhales sharply, shoulders rising and falling slightly. A laugh, Kuroo knows. “Thanks,” he says, deadpan, like responding to a joke.

“I _like_ it,” Kuroo clarifies. 

“Oh. Thank you,” Kenma says again, more softly this time. 

The back of his neck tinges pink again. Kuroo doesn’t quite know what to make of that.

(Kuroo leaves Nekoma behind for a major in communications and a minor in chemistry. Between course work, a new volleyball team, and attempts to assimilate into the university lifestyle, more often than not he finds himself collapsing into bed at the end of the day without so much as skimming his texts. The only time he’s talked to Kenma less was before he met him. He’s never had the opportunity to miss him. 

It’s a strange new experience. Kuroo’s world doesn’t revolve around Kenma, but it’s inarguable that their lives have begun to grow and entwine around each other since they were kids. He instinctively reaches for 2 milk breads despite only having himself to feed. He dog-ears certain pages of his textbooks with topics he knows Kenma tends to struggle with despite not having studied with him for weeks. He turns his head around to say something while walking despite having no second set of footsteps behind him.

He’s happy. He loves this new life no matter how tiring and unfamiliar it is. He doesn’t for a second wish he was anywhere else but pursuing his future on his own terms. Still, there is something incomplete about it all, something lacking.

The missing piece of the puzzle falls into place on the first night Kuroo spends back at home. He spends the afternoon revising notes in the living room and the evening catching up with his grandparents over a home-cooked meal. There is a knock at the door at midnight on the dot.

Kuroo opens it to reveal Kenma in his pyjamas with only his phone in his hand. “You told me you wanted to spend time with your family first and that Saturday was for me,” he says by way of greeting. When Kuroo does nothing but stare, he continues, “It’s Saturday.”

“Kenma,” Kuroo says, lips pulling into a grin around his name. “Did you miss me?”

Kenma knocks his head into Kuroo’s shoulder. He shakes his head twice in denial. The action is not dissimilar to the way a cat would nuzzle against its human. “I’m tired,” he says, breezing past Kuroo to make his way towards his room. 

When they settle in his bed, Kuroo’s arm around Kenma’s waist and Kenma’s back flush against Kuroo’s chest, he sighs over a month’s worth of longing into his best friend’s hair. Everything slips that extra inch into place, and he feels comfortable with the understanding that Kenma is irrevocably his other half. 

When Kuroo feels Kenma’s breathing even out, he leans forward to press a soft kiss on the back of his neck, right between the beads of his nape piercing.)

Nekoma qualifies for Nationals. They beat out Akaashi and his rag-tag bunch of first years, and Kenma and Yamamoto have managed to whip Lev into a considerable defender against Itachiyama. Though he doesn’t think he’s necessarily allowed to, Kuroo vaults over the barriers in the gym meant to keep spectators out and opens his arms to draw Kenma into a big, embarrassing hug. Before he has the chance, Yamamoto stops him.

“Careful, Captain,” he calls, drawing the attention of both Kuroo and Kenma. “Kenma’s _sensitive_.”

Kenma blanches. He kicks Yamamoto in the heel, who jumps with a yelp. 

Kuroo wonders how many pages he’s taken out of Yaku’s book, but there’s a more pressing matter at hand. “Are you injured?” Kuroo asks, examining his best friend for any hints of strain. “You better have been stretching properly. Have you been getting enough protein? Electrolytes? Recovery is important, I keep telling you—”

“Oh, he’s been careful about recovering, alright,” Yamamoto says with a knowing laugh. He dodges out of the way of Kenma’s foot this time, abandoning the scene before looks can kill.

“What is he talking about? Are you okay?”

Kenma avoids his gaze. “I’m fine,” he says, then lowers his voice, “I got some more piercings.”

Piercings. Multiple. Kuroo’s eyes scan across Kenma’s face to examine for any shiny new metal, but his attention is caught by the way Kenma tugs at the front of his shirt. He’d been doing that an awful lot throughout the day. Originally, Kuroo had attributed it to being a way to fan himself off so he didn’t sweat so much. 

Something connects in Kuroo’s brain. He stares desperately at the side of Kenma’s head, hoping with every fibre of his being that the ‘new piercings’ were just some hoops in the shells of his ears. When he doesn’t find anything, he experiences a 404 error. His eyes remain glued to Kenma’s hair. He’s terrified of what he’ll do if he looks anywhere else, if he happens to notice the thin fabric of the Nekoma jersey catching on specific points on Kenma’s chest. 

Kenma almost certainly has gotten his nipples pierced. The thought haunts him. 

Kuroo congratulates his old team and enjoys the awestruck look the new first years give him, but he has to force a smile at Yamamoto. Even if he did score an astounding number of points, he’s partially responsible for Kuroo’s ruin. He’s quiet on the train back to Kenma’s house, where Kenma’s chest is pressed flush against his side. He tried to lean away as much as he could, but the task proved impossible in the packed carriage. He takes a quick, _cold_ shower at home before making his way over to the Kozume residence, and tries hard to distract himself on his phone when he hears the water still running in Kenma’s washroom.

Here’s the thing: Kuroo is not impulsive. He’s always been more of the think-before-you-act sort, carefully considering the outcome of any given action and the pros and cons of any given outcome. He likes the word ‘scheming’ a lot, if he’s honest. Nearly everything he does is deliberate, which is why he can’t for the life of him explain what happens when Kenma walks into his room after his shower. 

He’s dressed only in a pair of boxer briefs, a towel hung around his shoulders to catch stray droplets of water from his damp hair. It isn’t abnormal by any means; Nudity hadn’t meant anything between them for years and when it started to become an itch in Kuroo’s brain he took it upon himself to avert his gaze, but this time he _can’t_. As Kenma moves his arms to rummage about his drawers for a fresh set of clothes to change into, Kuroo can’t help but wait for the towel to shift just enough to expose one of the new piercings. It never does. Kenma steps into a pair of ratty sweatpants, but as he sticks his arms through the wholes of his shirt and the possibility of catching a glimpse of new studs drifts further out of Kuroo’s reach, he panics.

“Can I see?” he asks, brain catching up to his mouth only after the words are out. 

Kenma freezes in his actions. Kuroo makes no move to backpedal, knowing it would only serve to prove that his request was impetuous. At least sticking to his guns makes it seem a little like he meant to say it. Kenma will turn his head, give him that displeased face that causes a bunch of little wrinkles on his forehead, Kuroo will smirk and wink, it’ll all be a funny joke. 

Then, Kenma doesn’t turn his head. He slowly lowers his arms, the shirt falling back into his fists, and pivots on his heel to face Kuroo completely. His face isn’t screwed up in irritation as he walks carefully towards Kuroo, but kept rather neutral aside from his eyes being just a fraction wider than usual. Kuroo does not smirk nor wink when Kenma stands still between his legs, Kuroo doesn’t know _what_ his face does, really. Met with the pale expanse of Kenma’s bare chest, silver barbells in both nipples, Kuroo’s mind goes completely blank.

Distantly, he recognizes that he’s moving, hands reaching up and out, but it isn’t until they’re settled on Kenma’s waist that Kuroo snaps back into his head. Kenma’s skin is soft under his fingers, still warm and dewy from the shower. He’s never touched Kenma like this before. He’s been the big spoon, he’s given back hugs, he’s tickled up and down Kenma’s sides through his shirts on nights that they’ve stayed up just a little too long, but it’s never been like this. Never skin on skin, never complete silence between them, never breathing shallowly because a breath too loud could break the bubble they’re in.

Kuroo begins to move his hands slowly, gently. His left hand slips behind Kenma, finding a home in the small of his back. He shivers when Kuroo’s fingers brush against the base of his spine. Kuroo bites his lip. His right hand splays wide across Kenma’s stomach. The span of his fingers is almost the width of Kenma himself. The contrast of their skin tones makes him swallow hard. He moves his hand up Kenma’s torso gradually, taking time to feel the slight contours of his abdomen, the ridges of his ribcage. He can feel Kenma breathing beneath his palm.

Finally, his hand stops just below Kenma’s sternum. He’s surprised he’s so stable with the way staring at Kenma’s new piercings makes his brain shake. They look simple, just two barbells, but the silver beads seem so stark against his fair skin and pale pink nipples. The sight, this close and with his own hand in the centre of it, brings a blistering heat to Kuroo’s insides. Feeling like he has to tear his eyes away from the side before he implodes, he glances up at Kenma’s face for the first time since he’s touched him. 

Kenma’s face is not any easier to process. His eyes are half-lidded and look glazed over as they stare down at him. There’s a flush across the centre of his face, darker over the apples of his cheeks. His lips are parted ever so slightly and the tip of his tongue sits visible just behind his bottom lip. The sight is unbelievably erotic.

Instinctively, Kuroo’s left hand presses firmer against Kenma’s back, drawing him even closer. Kenma has to rest his hands on Kuroo’s shoulders to maintain balance. Their eyes are locked on each other and Kuroo swears he can feel his heart in his throat as it seems like the distance between them is shortening.

It’s all broken in a split second.

When Kuroo moves his right hand to rest on Kenma’s side to pull him closer, the tip of his index finger brushes against Kenma’s nipple. Kenma jolts, fingers flexing and digging into Kuroo’s shoulders.

“ _Kuro_ ,” he says, far too breathy and quiet to be anything but a moan.

The sound destroys the pocket universe they’ve created. The reality of the situation comes crashing down on them. Before Kuroo can blink, Kenma has moved a metre away from him. His hands fall to his sides, still tingling with the warmth from Kenma’s body. He stares at the floor completely unable to make sense of what’s just conspired.

“They’re not,” Kenma says with a hoarse voice. He clears his throat and tries again, “They aren’t healed yet.”

Kuroo has no idea what this means. He’s still thinking about how Kenma’s tongue looked in his mouth. 

“They look— good,” Kuroo manages to force out. They do. They do look good. So good, in fact, that they’ll likely show up in his dreams tonight. “Bed?”

He cringes at how the word sounds in this context, so much like a _proposition_ , but Kenma doesn’t seem to mind. He chuckles quietly at Kuroo’s broken brain and the ease at which he does so makes Kuroo feel a little less frantic. With his racing heart beginning to settle, he finds the strength within himself to move his stiff limbs into reclining on the bed, legs tucked under the duvet.

After pulling on his shirt, Kenma swipes his 3DS off the dresser and crawls over Kuroo to get to his side of the bed. He isn’t refraining from touching Kuroo at all, which is nice, but there’s a noticeable tension between them even if Kenma is doing his best to ignore it.

Kuroo doesn’t know how to breach the subject. How do you ask your childhood friend if you were really just about to kiss or if it was a trick of the light, and if you were is it okay that his piercings gave you a half-chub? He rolls over instead, willing his dick to soften to the sounds of Majora’s Mask 3D through the tinny speakers of Kenma’s console. 

They fall asleep with inches between them for the first time in forever, but Kuroo wakes to blond hair in his mouth anyway. He pulls back slightly to find Kenma snuggled securely into his chest and thinks, _Yeah, that’s about right._

Kenma graduates as captain of Nekoma’s volleyball team with a 3.9 GPA and an acceptance letter into Todai’s computer science program. During the ceremony, Kenma’s mother grips his hand tightly in the audience and he only tears up a little bit. After the ceremony, when Yamamoto has dragged Kenma and Fukunaga to the gym, Kenma’s father claps him on the shoulder and says, “Please look after him in university.”

Kuroo swears to do so, but he’s only one man.

The first semester goes quite well. Kenma’s roommate is almost never in their dorm, but when he is Kenma has the spare key to Kuroo and Bokuto’s new apartment. He does well in his classes, sometimes even coming into the cafe Kuroo works at to study during his shifts. His YouTube channel picks up enough traction to put some extra cash in his pocket. 

There’s something noticeably different between them as well, something intangible that developed that night all those months ago when Kuroo pulled the breath from Kenma’s lungs with his hands. They’ve never talked about it, though they both know it’s there. It exists in the way Kenma sits a little closer to him on the couch, in the way Kuroo walks him to his classes in his spare time, in the way they both dance around the truth when asked if they’re interested in a goukon. 

It’s a quiet, hopeful thing. A flickering blaze beneath tinder and kindling that they shield with their hands to protect from the elements. It grows slowly and steadily, taking up more space with a crackling heat. It’s warm, comfortable, _theirs_. 

If Kenma takes the first semester to settle into a routine and familiarize himself with university, he takes the second to explore his newfound freedom to the fullest. That is to say, Kenma goes a little nuts with the piercings. 

From September to March, Kenma gathers quite the collection of hoops, studs, and barbells. His right ear gets a rook, 2 helixes, and an orbital. His left ear gets an industrial, a conch, a daith, and a tragus. His gauges have reached a notable size as well, no longer shackled by uniform requirements, hitting 5mm by the end of his final exams. 

Because of these new additions and their healing procedures, Kenma has his hair away from his face for most of the semester. In public, it’s with light-coloured bobby pins that clip small sections away from the fresh piercings. In private, his hair has grown enough to pull into small ponytails or half-buns. Kenma’s face is constantly completely exposed and his piercings are always on display. It does irreparable things to Kuroo’s heart.

He gets to see every expression, every twitch of the lips, every crinkle of the eyes. Of course, he already knows them all by heart, but witnessing them unobscured by any blond strands is new and exciting. There is a small part of him that feels a little embarrassed about being so unmitigatedly whipped, but the much bigger part is content to gaze softly at Kenma from across the dining table. When Kenma catches his eyes and looks away with a flush, Kuroo is rewarded with the sight of red spilling across his cheekbones and over the tips of his ears. 

And the piercings themselves, well… They’re hot. Kuroo has stopped dodging the obvious, he thinks they’re a turn on. In the dark of night, he wonders what it would be like to tug at them gently with his mouth once they’re fully healed. Would they be cold, or does the warmth from Kenma’s body seep into the metal? What kind of sound would they make as they caught between his teeth? What kind of sounds would Kenma make, sensitive and shuddering beneath him?

Kuroo realizes one day, with Kenma’s back pressed against his chest as they watch a movie, that there isn’t anything concrete stopping him from finding out. They’ve become _closer_ , so to speak, even if they won’t say it out loud. Kuroo is sure that he’s not the only one who’s realized that the two of them passed the point of just platonic long, long ago. If Kenma didn’t like it, Kuroo would back off without fearing that he’s put their relationship in jeopardy. 

So he brings his hand up, brushes Kenma’s hair to the side, and softly bites down on the shell of his right ear, the one he knows that has long since healed. His teeth do catch the small red metal hoops he currently has in, making a very light _clink_ sound. Kenma inhales sharply, breath stuttering. 

“Is this okay?” Kuroo asks, low and deep into Kenma’s hair. 

Kenma hums an affirmative, tilting his head to the side to allow Kuroo more access. Kuroo grins wickedly, nosing the space above Kenma’s ear before biting down again, this time with more force. Kenma makes no sound, though Kuroo notices his fists grasping at the sheets beneath him. Encouraged, he moves his mouth lower, tongue lightly tracing a path down to the conch piercing. He nips at the skin there, then takes the black captive bead ring between his teeth and tugs gently. This does award him with a small noise, though it’s muffled at the back of Kenma’s throat. 

That just won’t do.

Upping the ante, Kuroo moves his mouth lower again, this time slipping one of his hands inside Kenma’s shirt. He traces his fingers up and across the flat planes of Kenma’s stomach and is pleased to find the fabric of his shirt rucking along with it. His hand travels further until he’s exposed one of Kenma’s nipples, silver barbell sitting pretty against his skin. 

Kuroo kisses the space just below Kenma’s ear, laving his tongue over it once then biting into it. As he sucks a bruise into the juncture of Kenma’s jaw, he flicks his thumb over Kenma’s nipple. To his great delight, Kenma arches his back into Kuroo’s touch and lets out a quiet whine. It’s Kuroo’s new favourite song.

“Sensitive?” he teases, blowing cool air across the reddish mark he’s left behind and tweaking the hardened bud with his index finger.

At the provocation, Kenma lifts himself off Kuroo’s chest and twists around so he can place his hands on either side of the taller man’s hips. Kuroo brings his hand up to cradle the side of Kenma’s face as he leans closer. His eyes fall shut and his heart is racing at the promise of finally kissing his best friend.

“I’m home!” a loud voice cries from elsewhere in the apartment, the statement punctuated with a loud slam of the front door. It’s so abrupt that Kuroo jumps, knocking his forehead painfully against Kenma’s. Kenma throws himself back against the bed and stares blankly up at the ceiling.

“What’s got you looking so contemplative?” Kuroo asks, rubbing at the sore spot above his brow. 

“I want him dead,” Kenma answers. It pleases Kuroo to know that the interrupting upset him, however, the monotone of his voice offers no insight into how serious he is, which is mildly disconcerting.

Bokuto crashes into Kuroo’s room then, all bright eyes and cheery demeanour. “Guess who just finished their last exam!”

“I want you dead,” Kenma repeats, not looking away from the ceiling. 

Bokuto’s shoulders drop. “That’s no way to celebrate finals.”

“You know what _is_ , though?” Kuroo starts. He pinches Kenma’s thigh as he stands. “LAN party!”

Positivity restored, Bokuto cheers, throwing his hands in the air triumphantly before rushing out of the room to call Akaashi. Kenma does not move.

“We’ll play more Borderlands. When he goes down just don’t res him,” Kuroo suggests. “That’s the same, isn’t it?”

Kenma heaves a heavy sigh, but Kuroo sees the ghost of a smile. “It’ll do. Later?”

Kuroo grins, “Later.”

Later turns out to be _much_ later. The new academic term bogs them both down with course work, Kuroo is up to his ears in internship applications, Kenma gets wrapped up in contracts with YouTube and an eSports team; Forget physicality, they barely see each other the entire duration of April.

This is why, when Kenma walks into the cafe one afternoon, Kuroo is practically bowled over. He orders a cafe au lait along with two cake pops and does not draw any attention to the curved barbell newly embedded in his right eyebrow. Kuroo fumbles with the register punching in Kenma’s order, unable to tear his eyes away. 

When Kenma had said he was likely going to get lots of piercings, Kuroo had assumed he meant mostly in his ears. He had his nape and nipples pierced, sure, but once he was in university he focused so heavily on getting his ears accessorized that the thought of facial piercings had never even crossed Kuroo’s mind. Or it had, once, but in a hazy 4AM jerk-off fantasy that he swore never to imagine again. 

This isn’t a fantasy, though, nor is it his imagination. Kenma has metal in his face now, which can only mean he’ll be getting more. Kuroo wills his voice to remain stable as he tells Kenma his order will be ready in a few minutes. There’s no time to chat as there is a considerable line behind him. Kuroo considers it a miracle. 

Not once in the interaction did Kenma refer to his eyebrow, but as he walks away Kuroo swears he looks pleased. 

It happens again a few weeks later. Kenma arrives at Kuroo’s apartment for a hastily organized study session with Bokuto and Akaashi. They all know he spent the earlier part of the day meeting with his Rainbow 6 Siege team, so nobody is put off by the fact that he drops his bag next to Kuroo and collapses into the worn green couch. 

Kuroo never actually looked up to greet Kenma, not wanting to lose the momentum he had drafting an essay, so he’s surprised when Akaashi speaks up first.

“Are those new?” he asks, staring at a place behind Kuroo’s shoulder where Kenma’s head must be. Kuroo knows exactly what those words mean. He doesn’t want to turn around.

Kenma hums, then presumably does _something_ , because Bokuto reacts with glee. 

“Woah! If you filled your mouth with water would it shoot out of the holes? You’d be like that lizard.”

“That’s blood, Koutarou,” Akaashi corrects on reflex. 

“Oh. You probably shouldn’t fill your mouth with blood.”

Kuroo originally didn’t want to turn around because he knew the results would be devastating, but now he’s curious about what the fuck Bokuto could possibly be on about. He cranes his neck, and is, in fact, devastated. 

In both of Kenma’s cheeks, in line with the corners of his mouth, sit two new steel beads. They protrude slightly off of his skin. The initial jewellery is always longer to help with healing, he’s been told. Kenma smiles at him, small, bordering on affectionate, and the jewellery in his slightly swollen cheeks dance a little with the movement. Kuroo feels like he’s been stabbed in the heart. 

“When did you get them done?” 

Kenma’s eyes flit back to Akaashi. “Around the end of golden week.”

“Is that why you didn’t want to go hiking with us?” Kuroo finally speaks up.

“I can think of thirty reasons why I didn’t want to go hiking with you and Yaku.”

“Nobuyuki was there too.”

“Nobuyuki deserves a Nobel Peace Prize.” Kenma pauses, considering. “I might have gone if it was just him.”

“First Fukunaga, now this?” Kuroo wails. “How many Nekoma alumni rank higher than me?”

“Aside from them? Shibayama, Yaku, Teshiro, and Uyehara.” Kenma counts them on his fingers. “Kobashigawa’s probably up there, too.”

“I don’t even _know_ two of those names!” 

Kenma pokes Kuroo in the back of the head with a socked toe. “Lev ranks lower than you. And you’re tied with Tora.”

Kuroo fakes a sob. 

“Keijiiiii,” Bokuto whines, “They’re flirting again.”

Halting his dramatics, Kuroo stares pointedly at Bokuto. He has his chin hooked over Akaashi’s shoulder and one leg strewn over his lap. Bokuto either does not understand the implications of the look or is ignoring them. Akaashi appears to be unbothered with the conversation and the leech at his side, still putting sticky notes in the margins of his reading assignment.

“Be more concerned about what they’ll be like when they start dating for real,” he says.

“I wouldn’t worry about that too much.” Kenma’s voice is light in the way it usually is when addressing Akaashi, but it sounds incredibly honest.

Kuroo, deeply concerned with this information, turns around to face Kenma again. “Are you not going to date me for real?”

Kenma snorts. “I’m saying that you’ll still be my seventh favourite teammate even when you’re my boyfriend.”

Inexplicably flustered by the explanation, Kuroo busies himself with grabbing Kenma’s bag and tossing it on top of him none too gently. It’s not like he didn’t know they’d be getting together officially at some point, but to hear Kenma confirm it out loud for the first time makes a heat rise to his face. 

Kenma slips off the couch and onto the floor beside him. Their knees knock together as they study. Kuroo has a hard time keeping a smile off his face for the rest of the night.

During the first week of summer break, Kuroo and Kenma go on their first official date. Kenma’s admission of expecting Kuroo to eventually be his boyfriend had finally given him the courage to expel his few lingering doubts and actually ask Kenma out. They spend the afternoon hitting up as many ice cream parlours as they can stomach. The third place has a eucalyptus flavour that’s so bad but so intriguing they spend 15 minutes trying to finish the small cup, faces twisting in displeasure after every spoonful. 

The most memorable part of the date is when Kenma brings him to a small parlour in Shibuya that decidedly does not sell ice cream. The palette of the place is neutral greys, the walls decorated with mostly black drawings though Kuroo catches reds, yellows, and greens every so often. It smells strongly of disinfectant and something metallic. A small thrill runs through him when he realizes where they are.

“Kenma!” the person at the front counter greets. Every inch of their exposed arms is covered in tattoos. When they speak, Kuroo can see a piercing in their mouth, hidden behind their upper lip. “Been a while. How’re the dimples doing?”

“They’re fine, Fujita says they’re practically healed. Is she busy?” 

“She should be wrapping up soon.”

“Nagamine! Is that who I think it is?” a musical voice calls from the back of the parlour. 

Nagamine sighs. “She should be wrapping up now,” they correct.

From around the corner come 2 people, the first of which busies herself with Nagamine and forms of payment. The second is a tiny woman who stands resolutely in front of Kenma, grinning brightly from ear to ear. Fujita, presumably, is 5 foot nothing with the illusion of an extra inch or two from dark blue hair that sticks up in all directions. There is an oni tattooed in the centre of her chest, and her face is littered with piercings and small scars. 

“I saw you only a couple weeks ago for new labrets, Kenma. That must mean you’re here for…” her eyes sparkle as she trails off.

Kenma holds up two fingers in response. Fujita’s grin grows bigger. She claps delightedly. For as intimidating as her appearance may be, her energy is not dissimilar to a certain ginger. It explains why Kenma is so familiar with the place.

“Follow me then!” She pivots on her heel, leading the two boys to the back room. “And who’s this?”

“Fujita, Kuroo. Kuroo, Fujita. He’s my best friend. She’s done all of my piercings.”

Despite only being a subtle difference, Kenma pronouncing his name correctly feels entirely foreign. It strikes Kuroo then that this is probably the first time they’ve ever been anywhere together where it’s Kenma who’s done most of the talking. Kenma is introducing _Kuroo_ to people that he knows of his own accord. He nearly pauses in the threshold of the small room to take a breather. 

“I suppose I have you to thank, then,” he says instead, maintaining his composure.

Fujita’s eyes lift from gathering several different sealed packets, flickering mischievously between Kuroo and Kenma. “Oh?” she lilts, “Do you like them?”

Kuroo blanches. “I just mean he’s never gotten infected, or anything.”

Both Fujita and Kenma hum like they don’t believe him. They’re right to do so, but still. 

They discuss Kenma’s plans briefly, marking places with a removable ink a couple times to position properly, but other than that there is little dilly-dallying before Fujita gets to work. For as eager as Kuroo is to see what Kenma will look like with these new additions, he’s admittedly somewhat reluctant to see his best friend be poked and prodded with long metal needles. He braces himself when Fujita pinches the clamp, but she’s efficient and Kenma’s experienced. He doesn’t flinch at all either time the needle is pushed through. At one point he throws up a bland V with his fingers while Fujita prepares the jewellery, the long needle still stuck through his skin. It’s almost fascinating. 

A lot sooner than Kuroo would have expected, the process is over. Kenma has a new tongue piercing, which Kuroo is trying very hard not to think about in public, along with a bridge piercing, which Kuroo didn’t even know was a thing. 

Fujita claps her hands together when she finishes, examining her work. The bridge of Kenma’s nose is red and a little swollen, but Kuroo assumes that’s to be expected. She walks Kenma through the aftercare procedure, saying it’s their policy, but she rushes through the things Kenma already knows. She says to be diligent with the bridge piercing because it’s so close to the eyes, and then at the end, she says, “And no kissing or oral sex for about six weeks.” 

Kuroo hadn’t even considered this. “Six _weeks_?” he says, a little louder than he means to. 

Her eyes flash mischievously again, “Is that a problem, best friend?”

“Not at all,” Kenma answers for Kuroo. 

It is a little bit of a problem, Kuroo would argue. They’re on break and have now started dating, so he had planned to spend the majority of his free time making out with Kenma in his room with the curtains closed. He’ll enjoy any time he spends with Kenma, of course, making out or otherwise, but. Kuroo’s young and horny, sue him.

He relays this to Kenma outside, once he’s thanked Fujita with a generous tip and nodded Nagamine a goodbye. 

“I know,” is what Kenma responds with. Cold-blooded. “You made me wait two years, if you don’t count our entire childhood. You can wait a few more months.”

“Awe, kitten, did you have a crush on me when we— A few more _months_? I thought she said six weeks.”

“I’m not done yet.” 

As he speaks, Kuroo can see the golden light of the dipping sun catch his new tongue piercing. His heart stutters in his chest. The familiar coiling heat in his gut returns. He sighs, hooking one finger in one of Kenma’s belt loops to pull him closer and throw him off balance. Kenma laughs when he collides with Kuroo’s chest. It’s enough, for now.

The autumn semester begins. Kenma has referred to Kuroo as his boyfriend 6 times, and Akaashi has told Bokuto who’s told Kuroo that sometimes Kenma will text him, fuming about how happy Kuroo makes him. Kuroo hasn’t brought this up to Kenma yet because he values his life as well as the lives of his friends, but the thought makes him giddy. He makes Kenma _happy_.

Kenma makes him plenty happy too. Kuroo can barely keep the smile off his face as he walks through the streets to meet his boyfriend for the first time in a couple weeks. He had been occupied with a new job at a youth outreach centre and though he enjoyed it, he was eager to spend his first weekend off unwinding. He catches sight of a bad dye job and a raggedy hoodie standing on the street corner and he picks up his pace.

Always the observant one, Kenma catches sight of the flurry of movement and turns his head towards him. He’s just as pretty as always, but Kuroo is quick to notice something new as he gets closer. At the bottom left corner of Kenma’s mouth are two little silvery beads. Kuroo is so distracted by this development that he doesn’t see the young girls walking out of a shop in front of him until it’s too late. He swerves to avoid and ends up ramming full force into a light pole. 

Kenma explodes into laughter several feet away. It’s probably the loudest he’s ever been in public. The wash of pride Kuroo feels at being responsible for that cancels out the embarrassment and pain in his face. 

His laughter subsides slowly. He goes through another small fit of giggles when he looks at the picture he’s snapped of the single drip of blood than ran from Kuroo’s nose, then settles into a pleased smile. “Happy to see me?”

“Yes,” Kuroo answers immediately. He shakes his head once, trying to knock his thoughts back into place. “But, snakebites,” he says, attempting to employ his cursory knowledge of piercings. 

“Almost. Spiderbites,” Kenma corrects. “Got them last week.”

“I like them,” Kuroo says when really he wants to say _I want to kiss you so bad_. That brings up another thought. “Healing time?”

“Five more weeks.”

Kuroo groans. “Then you’re paying for mochi.”

The teasing smile finally drops from Kenma’s face. He scowls, brow furrowing. He’s still the cutest thing Kuroo’s ever seen. “You just got a new job,” he says.

“Okay, Kodzuken, and how much do you make in a month?”

Kenma frowns harder but doesn’t say anything. Instead, he turns around wordlessly and starts walking, letting Kuroo follow after him. They order a small box of mochi donuts to bring back to Kuroo’s apartment, and Kenma orders a single strawberry flavoured ice cream mochi for himself to eat on the walk there. For the pain, he had said, even if Kuroo knows better.

Bokuto is out for the weekend to celebrate a family birthday, so Kuroo makes him and Kenma coffee using the fancy stuff Akaashi keeps hidden in Bokuto’s half of the cupboard. They split the toasted sesame donut as evenly as possible and settle on the couch to catch up on the newest episodes of several different animes. At some point, Kuroo even coaxes Kenma into his lap. It’s perfect. 

Eventually, he grows bored with a filler episode to an anime that mostly Kenma likes anyway, so he takes to peppering soft kisses up and down his neck. They’re affectionate more than they’re heated, something he’s taken to doing since he can’t kiss him on the mouth. He trails up and up until he’s at the juncture of his jaw. 

Kuroo pulls back to admire the new jewellery he’s put in his ear. His industrial barbell has a little steel lightning bolt in the centre of it, and the plugs are a red amber colour. 

“New size?” he asks, gently running his finger along Kenma’s earlobe.

“Seven millimetres,” Kenma confirms. “I’ll be at ten by next year, I think.”

Kuroo hums thoughtfully. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Mm.”

“Why piercings?” he says simply. It’s something he’s wondered for a while now. He’s never been able to figure it out, entirely. Even if Kenma just liked the look of them, it’s a lot of effort to go through to keep them clean while they heal, and he’s put a decent amount of money into them too. It can’t be a pain thing, either, since Kenma’s already explained that they don’t feel like anything more than a quick pinch. There’s also the matter of how attention-grabbing they are, which is sort of the antithesis of Kenma’s whole schtick. 

“I think they look cool,” Kenma begins. “Beyond that, they’re a distraction. People don’t look at _me_ anymore, they look at my piercings. I feel less like everyone is judging me because I know they’re busy forming an opinion about my piercings, something I have complete control over and put there on purpose.”

“What about all the people whose only opinions are how hot you look with all that metal in your face?”

“Unfortunately, I have a boyfriend.”

“Unfortunately for them, or unfortunately for you?” When Kenma doesn’t respond, Kuroo jostles him in his lap a little. “ _Kenma_.”

“I like my bridge the best,” he says instead of answering Kuroo. In part just to be cheeky, surely. He touches the jewellery lightly, two silver spikes he bought once the piercing was healed. “People don’t look me in the eyes anymore. They just look between them.”

“I like your bridge the best, too.”

Kenma scoffs. He turns in Kuroo’s arms to face him, “That’s because you think it’s hot.”

“No, it’s because I like to see you be comfortable and happy in your own skin. It warms my heart to know that you’re not as anxious because of it.” Kenma stares at him until he relents. “Fine! I also think it’s hot. That’s not fair, though. You said you liked the way they look too.”

“I didn’t get a boner when I got my nipples pierced.” 

Kuroo gasps, “No! Kenma, you noticed that?”

“Your dick is huge, Kuro, I would’ve had to have been dead to not notice it.”

“You think my dick is huge?”

Kenma pulls away from Kuroo to grab the throw pillow at the other end of the couch, then twists his body to slam it against Kuroo’s chest. 

For Kuroo’s 22nd birthday, Bokuto gets them matching shirts that say ‘Sowl Mates’ with a poorly drawn cartoon owl on the front. Kuroo’s is red, Bokuto’s is blue. They wear them the entire day, including to the burger place Kuroo has chosen to celebrate his birthday at. When they take their jackets off inside the restaurant, Kenma and Akaashi are shocked into silence. 

When they finally react, it’s simultaneous. Akaashi puts his head in his hands with a long-suffering groan as Kenma says, “You two are the _worst_ people I know, I hate you both equally, I want to go home—”

It’s the best gift he’s ever received. 

It’s a good night, as well. The burgers are to die for, too expensive for normal consumption but perfect for his friends to cover him. They all go back to Kuroo and Bokuto’s apartment for games, and when the older 2 get there first they switch shirts with each other just to see the twin looks of loathing on Kenma and Akaashi’s faces. Several fierce games of 7-0 Uno are played, followed by some even more fierce rounds of SSB4. They stop near midnight, just before Akaashi makes an attempt on Kuroo’s life for reaching over and pressing the Y button on his controller, effectively launching poor Rosalina off the stage. 

“Are you two staying over?” Kuroo asks once Akaashi’s fury has subsided. 

“Actually, I’m going to Keiji’s for the night.” 

“Get it, Bo.”

“Shuddup, we’ll just be sleeping! Keiji has class tomorrow.”

“Then why not just let Akaashi stay here tonight?”

A silence falls over the room. Kuroo watches Bokuto’s eyes shift to Akaashi, who is staring at Kenma, who is staring at Bokuto. There is something happening that he’s not privy to. 

“I don’t have any clothes here,” Akaashi says. 

“You’re… wearing Bokuto’s sweater.”

At this, Bokuto yawns, loud and very obviously pretend. “Wow, look at the time, I’m exhausted. We should go, Keiji!” 

“Yes, you’re right. Happy birthday, Kuroo.”

“Happy birthday, bro! Have fun.”

Then they’re gone. Kuroo is left staring at the door in disbelief. “What curious kids,” he says. He turns to Kenma to ask his opinion on the matter, only to find Kenma staring up at him with an intense gaze he hasn’t seen in a while. He speaks up before Kuroo can open his mouth.

“Take the shirt off and wait in your room,” he says. His voice leaves little room for argument, and it kind of makes Kuroo’s dick twitch in his jeans. He heeds the order, turning to go to his room, when Kenma demands again, “I said shirt _off_.”

He strips the shirt off his body in the middle of the hallway, partially amused that Kenma really hates the shirt that much, partially filing away the fact that Captain Kenma really might be a kink of his. Then, he waits patiently in his room, reclined on the centre of his bed. 

It only takes Kenma a few minutes to finish whatever he was doing in the bathroom. Kuroo feels something inside him bubble with anticipation when he hears the light switch flick off and Kenma’s slippers drag against the wood floor. There is nothing obviously different about his appearance when he enters Kuroo’s room. His clothes are the same and he did nothing with his hair, however, there is a minuscule change he can discern.

“Did I really not notice the lip rings all night?”

Kenma shakes his head, “No. I just put them in. They were a surprise.”

A surprise. They look terrific, two thin black hoops sitting snug against his bottom lip, but there’s no inherent surprise there. Kuroo thinks he might prefer them to the original labret studs, and that’s when it clicks. In order for Kenma to change the jewellery, the piercings themselves would have to be healed first. And healed piercings mean— 

Kenma is already in front of him by the time Kuroo puts it all together, sat next to him on the bed. Their eyes lock for only a second before Kuroo launches forward. He melts completely at the first touch of their lips. 

Kenma’s lips are soft and warm, tasting faintly of the berry flavoured chapstick he uses. To his surprise, Kuroo finds that he can’t really feel the lip rings against his mouth. They’re warm and small, a faintly detectable mass that doesn’t distract at all from Kenma himself. He tilts his head, deepening the kiss, but even then they’re an afterthought. Kuroo doesn’t mind at all, plenty content to grip at Kenma’s waist and press kiss after kiss against him. 

The tongue piercing is a little more noticeable, he discovers when Kenma runs it along Kuroo’s bottom lip. Kuroo makes a sound he’s never made before, one that makes the fist Kenma has in his hair _pull_ , which makes him groan again. Kenma’s tongue slips into his mouth, slick and hot. The beads of the jewellery are larger and solid as they trace the shape of Kuroo’s tongue. It’s dizzying, almost. Intoxicating. 

Mind hazy, Kuroo pulls Kenma closer to him, dragging him onto his lap and slipping both hands into his shirt. They only part when the hem has been lifted to just beneath Kenma’s armst, at which point he pulls away to remove the offending clothing. Kuroo drinks in the sight of Kenma, lips shiny and eyes half-lidded, when something comes to mind. He leans forward, mouthing down Kenma’s jaw and throat, pausing briefly to leave a mark on his collarbone. He continues his path down, down, down, until he’s level with the centre of Kenma’s chest.

Kenma gives a small nod when Kuroo looks up at him, so Kuroo licks a wet stripe over Kenma’s nipple and relishes in the sharp intake of breath he hears. He laves over it a few times, feeling the barbell roll against his tongue, before gently sucking it into his mouth. At this proximity, he’s able to feel Kenma’s chest heave at the ministrations. When Kenma makes a small noise in the back of his throat, Kuroo moves to focus his attention on the other rosy bud. 

After a short while, Kenma pulls Kuroo’s head back by his hair. A thin string of spit connects his mouth to one of the piercings. Kenma breaks it with his thumb, tracing Kuroo’s bottom lip with the digit before pushing it into his mouth. He sucks on in it instinctively, trying hard not to bite down when Kenma’s other hand moves to grind against the tent in his jeans.

“Excited?” Kenma murmurs. He takes his time popping the button and pulling the zipper down, reaching into Kuroo’s pants and stroking him through his boxer-briefs at an agonizingly slow pace. “Do you want to know what the plan is for tonight?”

Kuroo nods quickly. “Please,” he gasps, the word muffled by the thumb in his mouth.

“I’m going to suck your dick,” Kenma says, thumbing the head of Kuroo’s cock. His hips jump at the sensation and the words he never thought he’d hear from his best friend. “And you’re going to come on my face, all over the piercings you like so much.”

Kuroo is amazed he doesn’t finish then and there. He moans instead. The wicked leer Kenma shoots him at the sound is sultry enough to make him squeeze his eyes shut. Kenma pulls away then, crawling off his lap and moving far enough that Kuroo begins to feel cold. He fights off a whine. 

When he reopens his eyes, he finds Kenma not on the bed at all. He’s kneeling beside it, watching him much like a predator would watch its prey. Kuroo assumes it’s fitting. He peels himself out of his jeans and underwear, tossing them to the side before swinging his legs over the edge of his bed to sit in front of Kenma. It’s a little embarrassing to be so openly on display like this, but the thought is quickly banished when Kenma reaches a hand up to wrap around his bare cock. 

Without any fabric between them, Kuroo can feel how cold Kenma’s fingers are as they loosely pump him from up and down. It makes him shiver. Several moments pass before Kenma halts his motions, letting his hand grip the base of Kuroo’s cock. His heart pounds as he watches Kenma lean forward with parted lips, it stops completely at the first feeling of Kenma’s mouth on his dick. It’s light at first, hesitant, but he begins to press open-mouthed kisses along the side of Kuroo’s length, hot and wet, a steep contrast to the chill of his hands. 

It’s like nothing Kuroo has ever felt before. The arms he’s using to keep himself upright threaten to buckle, but he can’t risk looking away. Kenma kisses the head of his dick once before sucking it into his mouth. When he feels Kenma’s tongue piercing rub against the underside of his tip, he struggles to fight a moan.

“Fuck,” he chokes out, watching Kenma’s mouth sink further down onto him. With each bob of his head, he gets further and further until he reaches just past halfway and pulls back with a deep inhale. He starts using his hand again, gripping tighter as his fingers slip easily down the saliva-slicked shaft. When he looks up at Kuroo, there’s water collecting in the corners of his eyes. “ _Fuck_ ,” Kuroo groans again. 

Kenma licks at the beads of precome forming at Kuroo’s tip, making a little show of the way his tongue piercing dips into the slit. Kuroo throws his head back. He wants to look so bad, but Kenma looks so _lewd_ between his legs that he’s afraid he’ll come too soon. 

His climax builds none-too-slowly anyway. It isn’t like he has much of a say in it; He’s never had anyone else touch his dick before, much less the boy of his dreams use his mouth on it. Kenma cycles his actions: jerking him off before focusing his tongue on the head of Kuroo’s cock, then bobbing his head until he has to come up for air. Repeat. He breaks the cycle once when he takes a deep breath in and instead of pumping the length again, he sinks down farther than he’s gone before. Kuroo feels his cock hit the back of Kenma’s throat, then feels Kenma’s throat constrict around him. 

Feeling a buzzing heat build rapidly inside him, he starts babbling, “Kenma, _Kenma_ , kitten, I’m so close, fuck,” over and over. 

Kenma pulls off then, going back to jerking him off. “Tetsurou,” he says, and Kuroo whimpers. His voice is hoarse, fucked out but still demanding, “Look at me.”

He gathers the strength to look at Kenma. His cheeks are ruddy, his lips are swollen and red, and strands of his hair have stuck to tear tracks along the sides of his face. He looks wrecked, but he still regards Kuroo with a domineering intensity. He positions his face closer to Kuroo’s dick, jerking rapidly.

“Come,” he orders. Kuroo obeys.

With a strangled cry, Kuroo comes harder than he ever has in his life. His extremities feel fuzzy, the nape of his neck starts to tingle, and he squeezes his eyes shut so hard he sees stars. He opens them again to an image his brain immediately saves to memory. His come is streaked across Kenma’s face. Over the bridge of his nose, dripping down one cheek, across his lips. Several bits of jewellery are covered in it. If Kuroo didn’t feel so thoroughly ruined, he’d probably be able to get hard again. 

“What about. You?” he says, the words clipped as he remembers how to speak.

Kenma looks away, the red in his face growing more furious. Silently, he lifts the hand that wasn’t touching Kuroo. It’s covered in come as well, sticky threads linking his fingers.

“You’re going to be the death of me,” Kuroo breathes. He leans down, wipes the substance off Kenma’s lips, and kisses him softly. He can still taste himself a little, but he doesn’t mind too much when Kenma kisses back.

“I’m going to go get cleaned up,” he says when he pulls away. “Put some clothes on.”

Kuroo does so, pulling on a pair of flannel pyjama bottoms and a music festival shirt he’s had since his high school years while he waits for Kenma. His boyfriend returns looking considerably fresher in nothing but his underwear, stained sweatpants bunched up in his hands. He drops them in Kuroo’s hamper before crawling onto the bed and sitting back on Kuroo’s thighs.

“I said _some_ clothes,” he says, displeased. He tugs at the hem of Kuroo’s shirt. Kuroo takes it off, then laughs when Kenma takes it to wear for himself.

“You’re so cute,” Kuroo says fondly. He wraps his arms around his boyfriend who settles comfortably on his chest.

“I just sucked your dick.”

“Don’t see why that would make you any less cute.” After a moment of comfortable silence, Kuroo decides to ruin it. “It was pretty mind-blowing.”

Kenma groans into Kuroo’s collarbone at the terrible pun. “Fuck you. I’m regretting it already. We’re never having sex.”

“That’s fine, I don’t need it. I love you anyway.”

“Do you?”

“Do I what?”

“Love me.”

Kuroo pauses. He hadn’t realized he’d said it, but that doesn’t mean he didn’t mean it. “Of course,” he answers, the admission easy.

“Oh.” Kenma lifts himself off Kuroo’s chest, maneuvering himself so that he can slip beneath the covers. Before he settles back down, he leans over to kiss the corner of Kuroo’s mouth. “I love you too.”

It isn’t news, by any stretch. Kenma loving him was never a question, but to hear it out loud makes something warm flutter in his chest. He leans over to turn off the lamp on his nightstand then rolls onto his side, wrapping an arm around his boyfriend's waist and tugging him close. He softly kisses the nape of Kenma’s neck, right between the beads of his nape piercing. 

As he drifts off, he thinks they fit together a lot like pieces of a puzzle.

**Author's Note:**

> i'm not particularly proud of this piece but it was mostly to scratch an itch (pierced!kenma) anyway so it can't hurt to launch it into the void right? right.
> 
> you can find me at [tumblr](https://ghostpot.tumblr.com/) and [twitter](https://twitter.com/ghostpot_) if you want to say hi!


End file.
